


friends don't (but we do)

by Woahsos



Category: All Time Low (Band)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Rated teen for language, Songfic, based off friends don't by maddie and tae, but u can really read it however u want tbh, for the loml bella, i imagined them as teenagers when i wrote this, it won't hurt u tho i promise, maybe light angst?, there's one scene where jack's drunk but in a dumb teenager way, they are so dumbbbb and in loveeee, uhh i think that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28561608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woahsos/pseuds/Woahsos
Summary: Calling Jack wasn’t really a conscious decision, but Alex was bored and restless, and Jack was the solution to both of those things. Jack was the solution to a lot of things. “I was just gonna see if you wanted to get food or something. Ice cream or whatever. I don’t know. But it’s cool if you have plans.”There’s a muffled bang from the other end of the phone and a little bit of cursing. “No, I can miss out, we were probably rewatching something anyways. What did you want to get?”Alex ignores the way his heart leaps, because it doesn’t mean anything and he’s been ignoring it for a few months. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not allowed to mean anything. “Oh. Uh. I don’t know, anything.”oralex and jack are friends. except, they're really so much more
Relationships: Jack Barakat/Alex Gaskarth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	friends don't (but we do)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bellawritess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess/gifts).



> hello this is for the loml [bella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess). bella this fic is honestly just my love letter to you, i hope you can feel that as you read it.  
> also this is my first songfic so pls be nice to me lmao.  
> big shoutouts to [sam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellingatbabylon) and [meghna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmagnolia) for reading through this and making sure it was good and all i love u both.  
> pls enjoy <3

“Hey, what are you doing later?”

“ _Uh_ ,” Jack’s voice breaks through Alex’s phone speaker; he winces and turns down his volume. “ _I think my parents and I were going to watch a movie. Why?_ ”

“Oh. No reason,” Alex says, walking aimlessly around his room, straightening things that don’t need to be straightened. Calling Jack wasn’t really a conscious decision, but Alex was bored and restless, and Jack was the solution to both of those things. Jack was the solution to a lot of things. “I was just gonna see if you wanted to get food or something. Ice cream or whatever. I don’t know. But it’s cool if you have plans.”

There’s a muffled bang from the other end of the phone and a little bit of cursing. “ _No, I can miss out, we were probably rewatching something anyways. What did you want to get?_ ”

Alex ignores the way his heart leaps, because it doesn’t mean anything and he’s been ignoring it for a few months. It _doesn’t_ mean anything. It’s not allowed to mean anything. “Oh. Uh. I don’t know, anything.”

“ _Okay. I’ll be over in a minute and then we can decide_.” And he hangs up. 

Alex sits at his kitchen table while he waits for Jack, scrolling through his phone and watching the minutes trudge by. He has a hunch that Father Time intentionally slows down whenever he and Jack have plans just to watch him suffer. No amount of wandering around his kitchen or staring at his lockscreen makes the time go by any faster. 

Just when he’s contemplating banging his head repeatedly against the table, his phone chimes.

**_jack_ ** : _here_

**_jack_ ** _: here_

**_jack_ ** _: here_

**_jack_ ** _: let me in bitch_

**_jack_ ** _: here_

Alex doesn’t want to say he leaps out of his seat to open the door. But he does almost trip over the leg of the chair.

Jack’s looking at his phone when Alex opens the door, probably still texting him that he’s here, but he looks up just as Alex is about to clear his throat. And there’s that leap again, but it still doesn’t mean anything. Jack just looks really good, even though he’s only wearing an old sweatshirt and joggers, but the sun’s hitting him right and he’s smiling and Alex just likes seeing his friends happy and healthy. It doesn’t mean anything.

He steps out of the way and gestures for Jack to come in, waiting for him to kick his shoes off (physically kick so one of his shoes hits the wall _Jack, please don’t break anything else_ ) and leading him into the kitchen.

Standing in the middle of the room, Alex isn’t sure why he feels so awkward and unsure. It’s just Jack, who’s been to his house more times than Alex could ever remember. They’ve been hanging out for years, they’ve been friends for years, and never once has Alex doubted any of it. He’s not even sure that he’s doubting it now because he knows he’d rather have Jack here over anyone else, and yet looking at Jack seems near impossible right now. Maybe he just feels bad for pulling him away from a family night.

“Sorry. For pulling you away from your family, I mean. You didn’t have to come over.”

Jack turns to him, brows furrowed and a smile playing at his lips. “Dude, it’s fine, we were probably just going to watch some James Bond movie again. I’d rather be here with you.” 

Which is a nice sentiment, but it doesn’t help because Alex feels like his face is on _fire_ now, and he’s still just standing in the middle of his own kitchen like he doesn’t know where he is. He’s fiddling with his hands in front of him, wringing his fingers together in a way that pops them and earns him a disgusted look from Jack. Shifting from one foot to another, he lands on a creaky floorboard that awkwardly breaks their silence, so he decides to finally ask, “What, uh, do you want to make something? Or we can get something?”

“What’ve you got?” Jack asks back, already making his way over to the pantry and rummaging through it. For how much Alex looks inside of it every day, he can’t remember a single thing inside of it. He can’t remember a single thing because the only thing occupying his mind is the sudden thought that Jack moves around Alex’s house like it’s _his_ house. Like they inhabit this space together, sharing the things inside of it like they belong to them both. Jack just looks so comfortable and at ease and it paints pictures of future days just like this one except Alex wouldn’t have had to call Jack over because he would already be there. 

So maybe Alex can’t ignore the fluttering of his heart at that thought, but he’s going to try. The way he moves around Alex’s house doesn’t phase Jack, so it doesn’t phase Alex, either. No matter what the pounding against his ribcage and heat flooding his cheeks says. 

“Ramen?” Jack turns, holding up two packages of shrimp flavored ramen that have probably been sitting in the pantry for months. Alex nods in what he hopes is a non-suspicious manner, distrusting of his own voice to not break or ask Jack if he ever thinks about the way they’ll fit into each other’s lives as adults.

Alex sits on the counter next to the stove while Jack fills a pot with water and sets it over one of the burners. There’s music drifting from Jack’s phone, which is resting on Alex’s thigh, and he’s quietly singing along as he stirs the seasoning packet in. Except, when he catches Alex smiling at him, he uses the spoon as microphone and _screams_ the words in Alex’s face in a nightmarish serenade. Alex is cackling, clutching at his stomach by the time Jack is pouring the noodles into bowls. And when Jack turns to smile at him, he has to grip the edge of the counter to keep himself from falling off. 

They sit on the couch while they eat, thighs pressed together as _Twilight: Eclipse_ plays on the tv. Despite having seen every movie numerous times, Jack’s eyes are glued to the screen. Alex is also looking in the direction of the tv, but his mind is on _thigh thigh thigh his thigh is touching mine and he’s so warm and-_

“I can’t fucking believe she chose Edward.”

“What?”

Jack gestures to the tv with his fork. “She fucking chose Edward when Jacob is _right there_.”

Alex blinks. “I’m not following.”

Jack turns to him, eyes wide, and Alex shifts under the intense gaze. “Jacob is so much hotter! Look at Edward’s fucking _sideburns_ , I hate looking at him. Not to mention, he’s so fucking dramatic.”

“ _Edward’s_ dramatic?” Alex scoffs. “Jacob threatened to throw himself off a cliff because Bella didn’t love him!”

Jack shrugs, and Alex thinks that’s going to be the end of whatever this argument is, but then he swallows his mouthful of noodles and says, “Jacob’s always been there for Bella. Edward left her in the second movie and didn’t even think about how vulnerable that would make her.”

Alex can’t believe what he’s hearing. He refuses to, actually. There’s no way this is an actual argument they’re having right now because they’re two teenage boys and not tween girls wearing _Team Edward_ or _Team Jacob_ shirts. 

His lack of response draws Jack’s attention; Alex just gives him a smile that says _You’re so full of shit_ . Jack raises an eyebrow and cocks his head as if to say _I’m completely serious_. Scoffing again, Alex turns back to his noodles and the movie, more than content to leave that conversation behind them.

“I’m just saying,” Jack starts. “Jacob could handle me.”

“He’s not even hot! Edward is way hotter.”

“What? What sort of taste in men do you have?”

Silence.

There’s a word on the tip of Alex’s tongue, a few words floating to the front of his mind, but he bites them back so hard his jaw aches. If he were smarter, or maybe braver, or maybe even dumber, he would say he was into lanky boys with wild hair who make him smile no matter what and make his heart flutter just by standing in his fucking kitchen. But that would require accepting it himself first. And he’s not smart or brave. Or dumb. Not _that_ dumb.

“Maybe you’re just a vampire fucker.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Jack stays later than either of them intended. They get through the rest of the _Twilight_ saga, including the repeats of the first two because they had missed them, and it’s dark out by the time Jack’s gathering his keys and his jacket.

Standing by the front door, they’re both shifting on their feet and not really looking at each other. Alex hasn’t moved to open the door and neither has Jack, and Alex wonders if, maybe, Jack wants to stay existing in Alex’s space as much as Alex wants him to. It just feels wrong when Jack leaves; the house is too quiet, the soft lights coming from the lamps aren’t as pretty with no face to illuminate, the couch is too big, it’s all _wrong_. And surely Jack feels it too. That’s always been part of their friendship, mutual feelings of what’s right and what’s not. 

A place without Jack is not right. And maybe, hopefully, a place without Alex is not right to Jack.

He hasn’t even left yet and Alex can already the vague hollowness in his chest that’ll drip down to his stomach. He hates it the most out of almost any other feeling. 

“Hey,” He says. Jack’s head snaps over to him and Alex absolutely refuses to acknowledge the gleam in his eyes. “I wrote some lyrics the other day. Do you want to come take a look at them?”

Jack agrees without pointing out that Alex always waits to show everyone his lyrics at the same time, always waits until rehearsals when they first gather in Rian’s basement, makes it a point to not let anyone see them until he’s sure they’re good enough to bring to the table. He doesn’t point any of that out. Just follows Alex up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

Alex doesn’t look at the way Jack sits himself on the bed like second nature; he doesn’t need to have the breakdown he almost had in the kitchen earlier. Instead, he grabs his notebook out the bottom desk drawer and flips it open to the page he left off on. Scratched into the paper are lyrics about beating hearts and accidental touches and thoughts that shouldn’t be thought, and suddenly he’s embarrassed. But he’s already volunteered to show Jack, so he just hands over the notebook while staring at his carpet. 

It’s silent as Jack reads, and Alex sneakily (hopefully) steals glances at him. At the way his brows furrow when he reads, the way he mouths some of the words out loud, trying them out in silence, occasionally nodding when he likes something or cocking his head when he can’t read Alex’s writing. 

Alex’s heart is in his throat. 

But that’s only because he’s nervous about what Jack will think, if he’ll like the song or if he’ll call it dumb or whatever. Not because he’s gripping his own hands to resist the weird urge to reach out and brush his fingers down Jack’s cheek. Definitely not. 

“Give me your guitar,” Jack says, still staring at the notebook. 

It takes a second for his brain to catch up, but then it does and he’s grabbing his guitar from the corner of his room and handing it off to Jack, sitting on the bed next to him.

Jack rests the notebook on his knees and starts strumming, staring down at the lyrics and playing through unfinished progressions and melodies before trying out a different one. Alex feels like he’s been hypnotized, watching Jack in his element, thinking about nothing except for how he could sit like this for the rest of time and be content.

“Fuck,” Jack hisses.

“What?”

“Can’t get this right.” He plays whatever he’s been doing again, and Alex can tell how it doesn’t quite flow, doesn’t sound quite right for the song.

“Here,” He starts, reaching over and laying his hands slightly over Jack’s. Which is dumb, so dumb, because his hands are sweating and his heart is _pounding_ , but he’s already done it and he can’t take it back. “What if you...like this?”

He plays, but Jack’s not looking at the lyrics or the guitar. He’s looking at Alex, who is _not_ looking back, and he’s so close that his breath hits Alex’s cheek. “Yeah,” He says. “Like that.” 

Alex turns his head and promptly loses any breath he had left in his lungs. Their heads are bent together, breaths tangling in the minimal space between them that Alex suddenly despises. He can see the pattern of Jack’s irises, can see his pupils grow slightly, he can practically count Jack’s eyelashes they’re so close. His pulse is rapidly thudding, so intense he can feel it everywhere. He wonders if Jack can feel it too, whatever’s in the air around them that’s causing this reaction. There’s something blocking every single one of his senses so that he can only focus on Jack and how warm he is and how nice the curve of his mouth is.

“I should go home,” Jack whispers.

_Please don’t,_ Alex thinks.

“Probably,” he says. 

Jack goes home. Alex watches through the front door to make sure he gets into his car safely, and then locks himself in his room. He sits on his bed with his guitar in his lap, tracing over the neck and ignoring the emptiness pouring into his stomach. 

His bedroom is dark and the house is quiet and it feels like nobody else exists. It’s simple and serene.

Until he drops his phone his face.

“Fuck,” Alex whispers, picking it back up and rubbing at his cheek. He almost drops it again when it starts buzzing, Jack’s contact displayed across the screen. Turning over, his clock reads one in the morning, which is a little worrying. 

He clicks _Answer_. “Hello?”

“ _Hey_ ,” Jack answers, sounding surprisingly calm, which eases some of the worry that had been building up in Alex’s chest. 

“What’s up?” He asks, going for casual. He’s propped himself up on one elbow for no reason; Jack’s not actually here and the room is still pitch black. It just helps him feel like he has control over a conversation that hasn’t even happened yet.

“ _Don’t know_ ,” Jack says, and he sounds nervous. Nervous? Alex’s heart beats a little harder but he presses it down. “ _I was bored, just wanted to talk to you_.”

_Shut the fuck up,_ Alex tells his heart. To Jack, he says, “Oh. Okay. What did you wanna talk about?”

“ _Anything. Tell me about your day._ ”

He does. And he listens to Jack talk about his day, about all the tea he’s had and the weird things his sister would burst into his room to tell him, only to leave without letting him respond. They talk about music, about the new blink album compared to the last one, comparing lyricism and how they can incorporate some of those styles into their own music, voices speeding up the more excited they get. 

It’s nice, this easy conversation. They switch seamlessly between topics, and the lulls they have are companionable and peaceful. Nothing else occupies Alex’s mind at this moment, it’s only Jack and Jack’s voice and how _easy_ it is. If every conversation were like this, Alex thinks, he might like talking to people more.

Although, it still probably wouldn’t be the same as talking to Jack.

He’s not even sure what they’re talking about anymore, some random thought Jack had that he’s gone off on a tangent about. Which is fine by Alex; he could sit and listen to Jack ramble forever and never be bored. 

“ _Are you allowed to get engaged?_ ”

Alex blinks. “Did you just... _what_? Did you just ask if you’re allowed to get engaged? What does that mean?” And he can’t help but laugh because it’s such an absurd question but he knows Jack will have an explanation at the ready.

“ _No, like,_ ” Jack starts. Alex bites his lip to contain his laugh, attempting to subdue the smile that nobody’s around to see. “ _There’s no legal bindings around engagements, right?_ ”

“Right.”

“ _And you can be engaged to as many people as you want._ ”

“...I guess.”

“ _And, just because you’re engaged, it doesn’t mean you have to get married._ ”

“Right.”

Jack gasps, somehow managing to be dramatic while still staying quiet, and Alex can’t help the giggle that escapes him. The topic is just so weird and he’s already so happy from talking to Jack in this strange midnight solitude, he can’t contain it. “ _I should get engaged!_ ”

_We could get engaged_ Alex doesn’t say. He could play it off as a joke, Jack would make it into a funny bit full of long-winded proposals and fake tears, but Alex doesn’t trust his own voice to not sound serious. “You should. You could plan a whole wedding that would never happen.”

“ _I could!_ ” He whispers, awed and excited. “ _Thank you for the support._ _You really get me, Lex._ ”

Alex’s smile dims a bit. Absurdly, his heart sinks a little. What was he expecting? For Jack to voice Alex’s thought that they could be engaged, say that _they_ could plan a wedding? Obviously not.

And yet.

His heart leaps. _You really get me, Lex._ Alex supposes that so many years of friendship will do that, even if he sometimes feels that it goes a bit beyond that. Or maybe he just hopes it does. He debates asking Jack. He decides it’s not a good idea.

“So who are you getting engaged to? You’ll have to propose.”

Jack hums. “ _Well, it’ll have to be someone who’ll say yes. So, not Rian._ ”

Alex snorts, but stays silent otherwise while Jack thinks. A few times, he almost says something, almost gives himself away. _Me. You could propose to me. I’d say yes._ In the darkness of his room, surrounded on all sides by nothing but what seems like oblivion, the thoughts feel too loud and he’s worried Jack might hear them.

“ _Do you think Zack would say yes? He seems like he’d just go along with it, be along for the ride._ ”

Jealousy bubbles up in Alex’s chest, which is stupid given that this is an entirely hypothetical situation and Jack is not actually going to propose to anyone. “Maybe. He might think you’re joking. Then he’d just say yes to appease you.”

“ _My whole engagement would be a lie._ ”

Alex laughs, though his heart’s not really in it anymore. He’s exhausted now, too many feelings changing too quickly and pulling all the energy from him. All he wants is for this conversation to be over, for all the heartaches and disappointment to stop.

Jack, of course, can tell that something’s changed. “ _Are you tired? You should go to sleep. If you are._ ”

Alex hesitates, considers lying. He’s torn between needing out of this emotional endeavor and never wanting to stop listening to Jack talk. But he already knows what he needs to say. “Yeah, I probably will.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Jack says. Alex would like to think he sounds disappointed, but he’s probably just surprised Alex is being responsible and going to sleep when he’s tired. “ _Well. Thanks for talking to me. Get some rest._ ”

“Yeah, you too.”

“ _Love you._ ”

Alex closes his eyes and exhales. “Love you too.”

_Click_.

He presses his palms hard against his eyes, exhaling sharply. It doesn’t mean anything. They’ve always told each other they love each other, never shied away from showing or telling how much they care for each other. It’s just a part of _them_ . And Alex kind of wishes it wasn’t because it’s confusing him now and he doesn’t want it to. It’s always been simple with Jack, and it still is. It’s just _Alex_ making it difficult for _himself_. 

He rolls over and wills himself into sleep and he does _not_ dream about Jack playing guitar or watching tv with Jack or cuddling with Jack. He doesn’t.

Band practice is normal, or as normal as it can be. They fuck around, play a few serious songs, Alex refrains from staying near Jack the whole time, Jack tells Zack about his engagement plan, Zack declines his proposal. Normal.

It’s _after_ practice has officially ended that Alex should’ve been worried about.

Zack and Jack are upstairs grabbing drinks, which leaves Alex in the basement with Rian. Alex is just sitting on the couch, scrolling idly through his phone, while Rian cleans up some of his equipment. Or, that’s what he thought Rian was doing.

The couch dips forcefully next to him, jostling him so his shoulder knocks against Rian’s.

“So,” Rian says. Alex stares forward, expecting him to continue, to form some sort of thought. He doesn’t.

“So?”

“When are you and Jack gonna get together?”

Alex turns his head sharply to him. “What?”

Rian scoffs and rolls his eyes, which Alex thinks is a little rude considering he’s the one who was just suddenly jumped. “You guys are always having silent conversations and looking longingly at each other when the other isn’t looking. It’s gross. Just kiss him already.”

“I don’t look _longingly-_ ”

“Not to mention,” Rian cuts him, actually holding a finger up in front of his face. Alex considers bending it backwards until Rian shuts up. “You weren’t laughing when Jack was explaining his weird engagement thing, and you looked like you wanted to murder Zack.”

Alex stays quiet, because there’s really no way to argue against that. Juvenile jealousy had burned in his chest when Jack jokingly got down on one knee and asked Zack to be his lifelong fiance, and it only soured further when Zack had laughed and replied, “Not a chance.” _He_ would’ve said yes. How could anyone say no?

Rian clears his throat and raises his eyebrows at Alex.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Jack and I are friends.”

It’s so obviously a lie. His voice is strained to his own ears and he’s staring at his own hands the entire time he’s saying it. It’s so unconvincing, in fact, that Rian _laughs_. A genuine, surprised, full-body laugh. Alex turns to glare at him, which only makes him laugh harder.

“Dude,” Rian says, _still_ laughing. “Fuck off. You guys understand each other in some weird way Zack and I could never understand. There’s something else there.”

“Something else where?” Jack asks, coming back down the stairs with two cans of Coke in hand, Zack following behind with two more.

Alex holds Rian’s gaze, hopefully translating the murder he’s plotting if Rian answers that. Thankfully, all he says is, “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” And gets up to take his drink from Zack.

It’s clear Jack wasn’t listening anyways seeing as he doesn’t respond, or even acknowledge Rian, and instead just hands Alex his Coke and sits down next to him. Right next to him. So their entire sides are touching. Even though the entirety of the couch is free, and it’s not like it’s a small couch either.

Foolishly, Alex looks up to catch Rian smirking at him. Zack is also giving him a look, which probably means him and Rian have talked about it before and Alex needs new friends. He discreetly flips them off from behind his pop can.

Jack shifts against him and Alex desperately tries to ignore the way his throat tightens when their bare arms brush. Being so close to Jack has never been so overwhelming and consuming; his hands are tingling with all the emotions he’s suddenly experiencing. 

“Zack and I are going out later, are you guys coming?” Jack asks, looking specifically at Alex even though he had been asking both him and Rian. But it doesn’t mean anything, so Alex ignores Rian’s stupid smile and Zack’s stupid eyes. They’re just sitting next to each other, obviously Jack’s going to look at him.

“Uh,” Alex starts, intelligently. His head is full, screaming at him to go, spend more time with Jack, be as close as possible, while also telling him that he can’t even handle sitting next to him on a couch while sober. “No, I’m not really feeling it tonight.”

Jack’s eyes do not dim at that, nor does he pout. Alex refuses. It’s been refused. 

“Oh,” He says, _not_ sullenly. “Okay. Rian?”

“Yeah, I’m down.”

Alex stays staring down at his own lap until Rian kicks them out, ignoring everyone’s gazes on him. He almost refuses Jack’s parting hug, and prays Jack can’t feel his heartbeat the entire time. And when he finally gets home, he locks himself in his room and reserves himself to a night of uneasy solitude, the room feeling too big with the knowledge that his friends are out having fun and he’s not there. The one person he wants to be around is out and Alex isn’t there.

Maybe he should’ve just said yes.

His sorrowful peace doesn’t last all night.

It’s barely past midnight when Jack calls him, Alex almost dropping his phone in his haste to answer, other hand placed over his heart as if that’ll soothe it into calming down.

“ _Alex! Why aren’t you here?_ ” Jack slurs.

A smile creeps it’s way to his face, warring with the ache in his chest and the vague dizziness he feels. His hands shake a little. He moves to sit up in his bed, gripping at his shirt collar with his unoccupied hand. “Wasn’t feeling it. But you’re having fun with Zack and Rian, yeah?”

“ _Yeah!_ ” Alex pulls his phone away from his ear slightly. “ _Well...I think so!_ ”

“You think so?”

“ _I don’t really know where they are!_ ”

Alex’s hand stills where it was running along the edge of his shirt. “Do you know where _you_ are?”

Jack just hums, which isn’t an answer. Alex exhales slowly, already thinking up a million lectures he could give to Zack and Rian about leaving Jack on his own, especially when drunk. Too much experience has given him the knowledge of how clingy and one-track minded Jack can get. “Can you send me your location? I’ll come get you.”

Jack gasps, “ _You’re gonna come hang out with me?_ ”

And it’s not really what he had said, but he also doesn’t want to upset Jack, so he just says, “Yeah, man. Just send me your location and I’ll be right over.”

“ _Okay!_ ” And then he’s hung up and sent his location before Alex has even had the chance to pull the phone away from his ear. Sighing, he makes his way down the stairs and to the car, starting it up and leaving the radio droning in the background.

He knows the bar they’re at; it’s the one they always frequent, the one that never cards and is fairly cheap. The roads are familiar to him as he drives, passing by lit up stores and restaurants still buzzing with life. Normally, it’s a drive that would fill him with adrenaline, expectations of nights spent being young and dumb and alive with his friends.

Now, he just feels like a parent on their way to pick up a rowdy child.

Clusters of people are milling around outside of the bar when Alex pulls up, but Jack is easy to spot among them. With how tall he is and how weird he is, it would be hard not to. 

_Or maybe you’re just weirdly attuned to him,_ Rian’s voice in his head says.

Alex ignores him.

He rolls down his window and calls to Jack, ultimately having to get out to help Jack open the door and find the seat. The heater’s on full blast and Jack has his hands in front of the vents, initially warming them up and then getting distracted by opening and closing the vents nearest to him, at one point turning them all so they hit Alex.

The first few minutes of their drive are peaceful, the alternative station providing them with a soundtrack about angry love and disdainful youth. Street lamps and neon building signs throw vibrant shapes and colored shadows across the car. Alex assumes they paint Jack’s face as well, but he doesn’t want to crash the car, so he doesn’t look.

Jack must be looking at Alex, though, because he says, “You should dye your hair.”

“Hm?”

“Your hair. The lights. They make it look pink, you should dye your hair pink.” Somewhere along the way, he’s reached out to pull lightly at a strand of Alex’s hair and then decided to keep playing with it, twirling it around his finger. Alex considers asking him to stop, but it feels nice. It’s comforting. As is the smell of Jack’s body spray that hit his nose the second he got in the car and hasn’t left since. 

“Yeah. Maybe. Would you help me?” He spares a glance at Jack when he asks. Jack looks like he might cry while also looking like every single one of his dreams just came true. It’s grossly endearing. Alex turns back to the road.

“Really? I’d be honored. I can’t believe you’d trust me enough to do that for you. I mean, obviously I’d take very good care of you and make sure your hair doesn’t fall out or anything.”

Alex just hums, laughing a little at Jack’s general state. Pulling up to a stoplight, Alex knows that he should turn right. Turning right will get them back to Alex’s house in ten minutes. But Jack’s here and awake and existing in a space with Alex, and the moon is so bright and the streets are mildly alive and everything feels full, brimming in a comfortable way.

He goes straight.

If Jack notices, he doesn’t say anything. Though, Alex is willing to bet everything he has that he didn’t notice.

“Look at that fucking _bumper sticker_!” Jack excalims, pointing at the car in front of them.

“‘Work is for those to dumb to Fish,’” Alex reads aloud. “The wrong ‘too’ and everything.”

“Why is fish capitalized?’ Jack asks, like Alex might genuinely have the answer.

For a minute, he considers trying to come up with some pseudo-explanation that would appease Jack. But it’s just too stupid. “Because, the fish are important. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Jack repeats and nods solemnly. 

Alex snorts a little, and then again, and then he’s laughing so hard he can barely focus on where he’s going and Jack is doubled over in his seat, clapping his hands together at weird intervals. And just when one of them thinks they’ve stopped, the other starts up again. It’s only when a few minutes have gone by in silence that they know they’re in clear, though, they’re both wearing dopey grins.

Or, Alex is. He hopes Jack is.

“I love you,” Jack says, head lolling back on the seat, voice a little too loud in the small space of the car.

Alex’s breath catches, but only for a second. “Yeah, I love you too.”

“No, like,” Jack starts. And then stops. And doesn’t continue.

Alex’s heart picks up speed, a steadily increasing drum to a song he wishes would stop, give him a moment of peace. When he glances over, Jack’s staring ahead through the windshield, brow furrowed. His eyes are drooping slightly, taking longer to open once he’s closed them. He’s not asleep yet, but he will be, and Alex knows that trying to get anything out of a tired and drunk Jack is near impossible. It’s the only time he becomes nonverbal. 

So he just sits in silence the rest of the ride home and thinks of nothing but what Jack didn’t say. 

And when they’re back at Alex’s house, and Alex has practically carried him and deposited him on his bed, he has the realization. It’s not startling, no tidal wave crashing over him, nothing that steals the breath from his lungs. It just washes over him, laps at his feet until he dips down to pick it up. Because, really, it’s always been there. Or it has been for a while.

Standing by his bed, watching the steady rise and fall of Jack’s chest and the calm that takes over his face as he falls deeper into sleep, Alex realizes what he had wanted Jack to say.

_“No, like.”_

Like what?

_“Like, as more than a friend.”_

Because they’ve never been just friends. Because he’s in love with Jack.

He takes the floor that night and gets almost no sleep.

The next few nights are spent in much the same way. Minus the floor.

Alex can practically feel the bags under his eyes from how little he’s been sleeping. It’s not that his realization is haunting him or anything; his mind is just full, replaying conversations and interactions he had with Jack that day, going back through their texts and smiling so hard his cheeks ache, daydreaming. 

But the night ends quickly and the days are a little less romantic.

A little.

Maybe Rian did have a point when he said there was something else there. 

Now that he’s started thinking about it, Alex keeps noticing things that he thought were normal before, things he thought were an indicator of their friendship. But they would never do these things with Rian or Zack.

Jack sits right next to him on empty couches. He’ll randomly play with Alex’s hair or throw his arm around his shoulders. There’s phone calls in the middle of the night that don’t happen to anyone else, according to Rian. Prolonged eye contact, or even just staring, that burns through Alex’s body. Even the way he talks to Alex is different, lighter, always checking to make sure Alex is smiling or laughing or at least just enjoying himself.

They’re not just friends.

They can’t be.

**_jack_ ** _: im coming over, hope ur home_

Alex thinks he might ask him about it, tell him how he’s feeling. He thinks he has to. Going through the days acting like he doesn’t want to hold Jack and kiss Jack and tell Jack that he loves him in so many ways is bordering on painful. It cuts him deeper every time Jack smiles or texts him an out-of-the-blue thought in the middle of the day or even just _speaks_. He’s been good at keeping his composure, but something’s bound to break eventually. 

Besides, if Rian’s words and Jack’s action mean anything, maybe it won’t turn out so terribly. Hopefully.

He’s sure he could make a joke out of it if it does. A cruel, knife-wound of a joke, but still a joke.

All of that almost completely flies out the window when Alex opens the door for Jack, who is wearing a t-shirt that definitely belonged to Alex at one point and it’s a little too tight around the shoulders and Alex can’t think anymore.

“Lex?” Jack asks, bringing Alex’s eyes away from where the shirt is stretched across his chest. “You good?”

“What? Yeah,” He blinks. “Yeah. Sorry. You’re wearing my shirt. Or. Is that my shirt?”

Jack looks down at himself and shrugs. “Probably.” And then walks into the house like everything’s normal. Because it _is_ normal.

He walks in without waiting for Alex to invite him in, kicking off his shoes and already making his way to the kitchen. Alex is stuck in the doorway, going through the last few seconds in his head to make sure it wasn’t a fever dream.

He has to tell Jack.

“So, hey,” He says, walking into the kitchen. The blender cuts him off, and he actually takes a second to register everything that’s suddenly on the counter. Coffee, milk, the ice trays, different creamers. “What are you doing?”

“Making frappuccinos,” Is the answer. Jack drizzles chocolate into a cup before pouring the contents into the blender and handing it to Alex. Alex takes a sip. It’s not bad. It’s coffee. But he’s not sure it’s a frappuccino.

“Are you going to clean this up?” He asks when Jack starts making his way to the living room.

“We’ll do it later.”

_We’ll_ do it later. Not _I’ll_ do it later or _nope, I’m leaving it for you_. And isn’t that just another breakdown waiting to happen. Or, another reason to tell Jack.

Instead of doing that, he makes his way to the living room and sits next to Jack on the couch, trying to keep any of their body parts from touching. There’s a Lifetime movie playing on the tv, which Alex really wishes he could be surprised about. The windows behind them are open and he can hear a few birds chirping away outside, can feel the cool breeze brushing the back of his neck. 

“How much money do you think these actors make?” Jack asks, drinking from his own frappuccino. Alex wants to turn to look at him, but he can see out of his peripherals that Jack’s head is leaned back against the top of the couch, and that’s not a sight he thinks he could handle up close. He might do something dumb like reach out to brush a finger down Jack’s jaw or press a kiss against his throat. “I mean, do they start out wanting to be big Hollywood actors? They have to know they’re not good, or else they wouldn’t be acting in a Lifetime movie. What a wakeup call that must be-”

“What were you going to say in the car the other night?” Alex asks, and then immediately bites his tongue. Literally. He thinks he deserves it.

There’s a pause, full of so much tension in such a short time. “Uh,” Jack starts. “I don’t really remember. Why?”

It would be so easy to brush it off, make up a lie, tell him that it was dumb and didn’t matter. But it wouldn’t be easier than not knowing. “You said you loved me, and I said I loved you back, and you said, ‘No, like,’”

“Like?”

“That’s where you stopped.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Alex turns to look at him. He’s scratching the back of his neck, cheeks flushed, his other hand gripping his knee. There’s something desperate, kind of hopeful, in his eyes; Alex imagines he doesn’t look much different. He can practically feel the desperation radiating from his face. His whole body.

“Are we just friends?”

Jack meets his eyes and the world around them blurs, dark at the edges. They turn so they’re facing each other fully, knees knocking together, crossed legs the only things that are really keeping them distanced. “I don’t want to be. I’ve always wanted to be more, but I wasn’t sure you felt the same.”

Time slows, stops, and then picks back up at full speed as Alex’s heart knocks against his chest with the harsh breath he takes in. “I love you so much it hurts sometimes.”

“Can I kiss you? Are you fucking with me?”

Alex laughs and links his hands behind Jack’s head, pulling him closer but letting him close the rest of the space between them. Their lips touch and it’s roses and fireworks and magic and it’s everything. It’s _them_. He barely feels Jack’s hands awkwardly holding his sides because he’s so caught up in kissing him. When he pulls back, he laughs again, transferring a smile onto Jack’s face as well. 

“So,” Jack says. “We’re more than friends, right?”

And Alex laughs, again, and he can’t stop smiling. It’s bursting from his chest, surrounding him, securing him in Jack’s space. “Do friends do this?” he asks, and smiles the whole way through their next kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> well. :)) hope u enjoyed.  
> kudos and comments are appreciated as always. come vibe w me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/escapesos) if you'd like.
> 
> title from "friends don't" by maddie and tae


End file.
